


Price of One Soul

by little Alex (litalex)



Series: Fool's Errand [4]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-11-03
Updated: 2000-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-19 23:18:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litalex/pseuds/little%20Alex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel is emotionally hurt, then Wesley is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Price of One Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The boys are not mine. They belong to Joss Whedon, David  
> Greenwalt, WB, 20th Fox, various people and companies I cannot remember  
> at the moment. Lucky bastards.
> 
> Spoilers: AtS, season one, "Sanctuary"; BtVS, season four
> 
> Personal Notes: Thanks to Molly and Random for beta-ing. Anything that  
> makes sense is their fault.

The hot water felt so good, so very good. His eyes closed, Angel  
tipped his face heavenwards and the water pounded on him, cleansing  
his body if not his soul and heart. Of all the modern inventions,  
the constant availability of hot water was definitely his favorite.  
People had to prepare for hours just for a lukewarm bath in the  
olden days. Now, he only needed to turn on a faucet.

The water warmed his body and gave him the illusion of hot blood  
coursing through his veins just after a kill; or, after he regained  
his soul, just after he heated it. 'Practicalities; keep your mind  
on practicalities,' he told himself. Shaking his head, he reveled  
under the water more and refused to think about a certain ex-Watcher  
who had confirmed all the suspicions he had about himself.

Wesley did not give a damn, could not care less. Of course he had  
not. It was Wesley's strong sense of duty that had kept him in  
Angel's bed in the first place. Despite his foolish illusions, Angel  
did know that, but had not been made so painfully aware of the fact  
until now. No, Wesley did care, but that was precisely the problem.  
Wesley had cared, had stared at him with only hero-worship, only  
friendship, only lust. It was never love, however, that he saw in  
the pair of vibrantly blue-gray eyes.

He could not stay under the shower forever, no matter how strong the  
urge to try. So, he turned off the hot water and stepped out, drying  
himself with his large and thick bath towel. Unwilling to confront  
his lover -- his former lover -- he lingered in front of the  
bathroom mirror, staring at his lack of reflection. If it still  
existed, what would it have shown? Bloodshot eyes, lines around  
those eyes, a soft frown? Or maybe he had practiced his cool mask  
often enough that the pain and loss would not show at all?

He did not know, did not care to know. It did not matter, in the  
end, because Wesley did not love him. Why did it upset Angel so? Had  
he not told himself precisely that Wesley could not be allowed to  
love him? That it would bring the ruin of them both? 'Because *you*  
love him,' his mind whispered and he suddenly felt the truth of the  
statement. Angel might not be able to love Wesley the same way he  
loved Buffy, but he did, he realized now, love the former Watcher  
passionately. Their nights together only confirmed to his heart what  
his body already knew at their first kiss.

It was not Wesley's style to be so callous, however, and it made  
Angel wondered if the Englishman was hiding something after all.  
Then he sighed because he actually had no idea how Wesley dealt with  
former lovers. For all he knew, Wesley ended every relationship in  
that particular way: with a smile so sweet and an expression so  
loving that the image would have been beautiful if not for the cruel  
words. It was painfully appalling how Wesley could deliver such a  
line with perfect aplomb and disdain. Then Angel blinked, slowly  
pushing himself away from the counter. A line. It *had* to be a  
line, had to be nothing more than an act so that Angel would not get  
too close.

Yes, Angel was completely willing to wager his life on the  
possibility. It would not make sense otherwise for Wesley to be so  
wary. What could Wesley be guarding except his heart? Angel turned  
abruptly around and slammed open the door, hoping against hope that  
Wesley was still inside his bed, or at least in the room. Angel was,  
as he had expected, appropriately disappointed. Wesley had left  
already, no doubt finding the dismissal more than enough to chill  
his heart. Angel tilted his head slightly, listening for a human  
heartbeat that he already knew could not be there. The results,  
again, confirmed his suspicions.

Angel resolved to talk to Wesley the first moment they were alone again.

*****

Did he actually think that he could get Wesley alone?

For the last three weeks, Wesley had constantly avoided Angel. It  
was never obvious, but Wesley always had some very legitimate  
excuses, something about researching yet another brand of demons,  
whenever Angel attempted anything remotely close to a conversation.  
The problem was, of course, Wesley acted thoroughly like the ever  
helpful assistant: researching the aforementioned demons,  
translating documents from some ancient and obscure language to  
modern day, well, fairly modern day, English, and other one thousand  
little things that had made him invaluable to their team. All the  
tasks necessities and all of them took Wesley into anywhere and  
everywhere except near Angel.

All the effort Wesley had put into separating himself from the  
vampire would have been amusing, if Angel truly thought about it,  
but since he was not inclined to do so, he found it completely  
frustrating instead. Wesley's actions, however, only strengthened  
Angel's resolve, for they were a definite confirmation that the  
ex-Watcher was hiding something. Angel decided to give Wesley one  
more week. If Wesley still refused to be alone in the vampire's  
company by then, Angel would just confront him the moment the mortal  
arrive at work, Cordelia or no.

Then, as was the norm in Angel's life, another disaster struck  
before he could make good on his decision. This time, the trouble  
came in the form of a medium-height, pretty brunette bearing a  
familiar face and name -- Faith, of course. Thrown once more into  
crisis, Angel allowed his protective streak to rule his actions.  
Ordering about the two members of his new family, even when into  
safety, was bad enough, but he had to add to that an attack on  
Wesley. The actions did put both Cordelia and Wesley out of the line  
of fire, but it also widened the gap between the two men  
irrevocably. Angel hated the situation, but did not know how to  
remedy it.

A few hours later, he discovered that what he thought was a safe  
haven for his two beloved mortal friends was not safe at all. Faith  
had hidden in the shadows of Cordelia's apartment and waited for her  
opportunity to strike. And struck she did: she easily knocked  
Cordelia unconscious and kidnapped Wesley into areas unknown.  
Cordelia's condition would have pained him greatly if it had  
happened alone, but compared to Wesley's disappearance, Angel was  
ashamed to realize, it was nothing. Still, he and Cordelia  
immediately began working on finding the whereabouts of their  
missing ex-Watcher. Once he had an adequate location, he raced his  
convertible there. Bursting into rescue once again, he fought Faith  
and supposedly won when she collapsed into his embrace.

The heavy and cold needles stabbed at him and snaked into his shirt  
quickly enough, despite the leather duster and Faith's blocking the  
rain from directly touching the front of his shirt. Soon, all his  
clothes except his coat were soaked. Even through two layers of  
fabric, Angel still felt the weight of the fat water drops. He took  
off his coat and draped it over Faith, knowing that her human body,  
despite its Slayer strength, would be feeling the violent weather  
much keener. Raising his head, he saw the tall silhouette of Wesley,  
who stood there motionlessly. Angel pulled Faith up into a standing  
position and they walked slowly toward Wesley, the vampire's arm  
slung protectively around the Slayer's shoulders. The irony would  
have been palpable, were any of them in adequate shape to appreciate it.

Wesley ignored Faith and his gaze bored into Angel's eyes. "Can we  
talk?" he shouted over the rain. Angel nodded and waited for Wesley  
to start. Wesley looked pointedly at Faith. "In private."

"No," Angel answered softly. Faith's soul was in critical condition,  
but Wesley he could convince later.

Wesley narrowed his eyes but nodded. "All right. I suggest that we  
call the poli--"

"I'm bringing her back home." Wesley's eyes widened, the color  
sharpening into flame-blue, and Angel hastened to explain, "The  
police can't deal with a Slayer." Wesley's eyes calmed to their  
usual grayish blue, but instead of reassuring Angel, the color  
reminded him of the artic cold. Why had Angel never realized that  
Wesley's eyes were the exact color of clean, sharp ice?

"No, I suppose not," Wesley said in such a conversational tone that  
it plunged Angel into a pit of both fire and ice. Angel  
instinctively knew that if he didn't abandon Faith and go with  
Wesley right now, the beautiful man would be forever lost to him.  
But he glanced at the shivering girl beside them and saw her as she  
was moments ago: her soul bared to him, her eyes begging for death.  
He looked back at his beloved and shook his head.

His body trembling almost unnoticeably, Wesley straightened up and  
actually smiled. "I better go, then." True to his words, Wesley  
turned abruptly around and strode away, his body in resolute lines  
despite the slight limp.

Angel opened his mouth but then closed it, his heart constricting as  
Wesley slowly disappeared into the rain. It wasn't his choice to  
make. It was never his choice. He turned his attention back to  
Faith, for she could yet be saved. If he had indeed lost his heart,  
then let him at least redeem his soul. His arm still around her, he  
flipped on his cell phone and called a cab, grateful that the  
idiotic thing obeyed him this time.

Despite the heavy rain, the taxi arrived quickly enough and Angel  
ushered Faith into the warmth. Angel half expected the taxi driver  
to comment on their unkempt appearances, but the middle-aged woman,  
fortunately for all three of them, didn't say anything. Then again,  
a cab driver in L.A. had probably seen much worse. Angel again  
looked toward Faith, who was now staring outside window. Her body  
was now tensed, her expression wary.

Angel put his hand onto her shoulder, but she flinched under his  
touch and he snatched his hand back. "I'm sor--" She shook her head  
and Angel could only copy her and turn his gaze outside the window,  
too. Wesley should be in the emergency room by now; the man was  
nothing if not practical. In fact, Wesley better be in the ER, for  
if he wasn't, Angel would deal him enough bodily harm to put him  
there. Then Angel winced, recalling that someone had already done  
that. And that someone was sitting safely right next to Angel when  
she should have her bones crushed one by one--

Jesus Christ. No, a million times no. But Faith took what was  
rightfully his, didn't she? Wesley was his -- his to love and his to  
hurt. Angel shuddered, repeating silently the word 'no.' Ah, but  
didn't Wesley's pleasure belong to him only? And Wesley's blood --  
oh, that pure, sweet succulence -- should flow only when he said so.  
'No!' Angel shouted at his demon self and heard Faith's immediate  
"Angel?"

"It's nothing. I'm sorry. We'll be there soon." Angel squeezed out a  
smile.

Faith's returning smile was just as shaky. "I know. I've been there  
before." And she looked back toward the window.

Angel did the same. Was this the ultimate test? Not only did he have  
to give up Wesley, he also had to save the girl who so brutally  
tortured his lover? Was this the price of his soul? How many more  
sacrifices, he wanted to scream. He was a hair length from throwing  
Faith out and racing back to Wesley when they arrived back at his  
office. The cab fare quickly paid, Angel instinctively clasped  
Faith's hand in his and led her out of the taxi. He steered her  
through his office to the elevator and they went down in silence.

No, this was the destiny the Powers That Be had bestowed on him and  
he would never again abandon his soul just for his heart.

/~~finis~~/


End file.
